


Between dreams and daylight

by ExtraSteps



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Episode 8, M/M, Matteo reflects and educates himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-08 20:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18630679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExtraSteps/pseuds/ExtraSteps
Summary: Matteo tries to figure out what David's revelation means for the two of them.





	1. Chapter 1

His bed smells like David again.  
  
He’s gone, long gone by now, and Matteo’s brain has only just caught up, only just emerged from that transient place between dreams and daylight, and David is gone.  
  
Matteo blinks, eyes searching his room, like he still expects him to be standing by the window. Light streams in, blinding him, and he sighs, falling back against the mattress, breathing in David’s scent, filling his lungs with it.  
  
 _“I don’t know what to say.”_  
  
He still doesn’t, really. He knows now that he’s gay, that he prefers men. It was a truth that had always been there in the background, unacknowledged, like if he ignored it then it might one day be a lie. But it had never gone away. Kissing Sara had made him feel numb, lonely, lost. On the other hand, kissing David made him feel like he could breathe, like he’d spent his entire life underwater and his head had only just broken the surface to take that first gasping breath.  
  
But David being trans muddies the water a bit. He doesn’t really understand what it means. For him. For them. Because he still wants there to be a them. Seeing David standing at his front door again, moving closer, their foreheads touching, his arms wrapping around David and holding him tight, had only cemented this further.  
  
He doesn’t want to be numb anymore. Doesn’t want to drown everything out with music and weed. Doesn’t want to push everyone away. Doesn’t want to be a spectator of his own life.  
  
Matteo pulls out his computer, booting it up and opening up google. He searches for transgender, finding definitions, articles, videos, anything he can get his hands on and he devours it all, losing track of the day completely.  
  
A knock on the door startles him.  
  
“Matteo? Is everything okay?”  
  
It’s Hans.  
  
“Yeah,” he says, closing his computer.  
  
The door opens, Hans sticking his head in and looking at him. His eyes sweep the room, he sniffs. Matteo feels shame burn in his chest. Weed, he was checking for weed.  
  
“What’s up?” Matteo asks.  
  
“Just checking on you,” Hans says, his eyes curious now as he looks at him. “You’ve been locked up in here all day. And you haven’t been checking your messages.”  
  
Matteo frowns, looking down and around, trying to find where he’d left his phone. It’s over on the table and he crawls out of bed, flopping into one of the chairs as he unlocks it. It’s nearly dead, but there’s a ridiculous amount of notifications.  
  
None from David.  
  
He locks it again, looks up to find Hans still leaning in the doorway.  
  
“I lost track of time,” he says with a shrug, hand reach up to comb through his hair. His stomach rumbles, reminding Matteo that he hasn’t eaten all day.  
  
“David was here last night,” Hans said, looking at him carefully, “and this morning.”  
  
Matteo nods, looks down and away.  
  
“Did something happen?”  
  
Yes. No.  
  
He shrugs again. He can’t out David to Hans. Then he really would be the asshole that people like Sara claim he is. But he has so many questions, so many thoughts whirling through his head. His mind is always far too loud, and at the moment it’s thundering.  
  
His fingers fidget and tangle in his shirt. He needs a smoke.  
  
“We talked,” he mutters. “I didn’t know what to say, so he left.”  
  
Hans moves further into the room, shutting the door behind him. He takes the other seat, studies him, waits for him to continue.  
  
“He said I should contact him when I’m ready,” he says when it’s clear that Hans isn’t going to say anything.  
  
“Are you?” Hans prompts.  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Are you ready?” He asks. Matteo’s eyes flick up, looking at him. He chews on the inside of his cheek, shrugs again.  
  
“Do you remember what I said to you on the weekend, in the church?”  
  
He frowns, thinking back. He had been so jittery, so unsure, so desperately lonely but something about sitting in church with Hans had settled him. It was familiar; the solemn music, the hushed voices, the light streaming in through high windows. It was peaceful, quiet, but he never felt alone there. God was always there, watching over him. It was one of the reasons he’d never minded his mother dragging him there every Sunday.  
  
“You said I should give him time, or forget him.”  
  
Hans nods, giving him a small smile. “He came to you, didn’t he?”  
  
“Yeah,” he says slowly, glancing back at the window where David had been standing all those hours ago.  
  
“He explained himself, why he’d pulled away?” Hans guesses.  
  
That was true, he had. And Matteo had understood why he’d been afraid. He’d been scared to come out to his friends too, couldn’t even imagine telling his mother, was terrified of the thought of his father ever finding out.  
  
But his friends had showed him nothing but acceptance.  
  
Matteo, however, had said nothing.  
  
There is a sudden sharp ache in his chest and he rubs his palm over it. David had left, thinking that Matteo didn’t accept him, wasn't there for him. And yet still, his parting words had been urging him to talk to him when he was ready.  
  
He pushes himself up, mind made up. He has to tell him, has to see him. He steps forward but instead sways, dizziness washing over him.  
  
“Woah,” Hans says, springing to his feet to help him, hands firm on his arms as he holds him up. “You okay?”  
  
“Just dizzy,” he says quietly, feeling pale and shaky. Hans helps him to sit back down.  
  
“When was the last time you ate?” Hans scolds him.  
  
Matteo frowns. His head is swimming, making it hard for him to concentrate. “I don’t know,” he admits in a small voice.  
  
They’d ordered pizza last night, but it had never come. David had been there instead, and all he’d cared about was lying in bed with him, watching him sleep, marvelling over what a miracle it was that he was suddenly there again after having disappeared for two weeks.  
  
“I’ll make you something,” Hans says firmly. “Stay here.”  
  
He nods, and Hans leaves the room.  
  
Matteo picks up his phone. If he can’t go see David, he can at least message him.  
  
It’s flat.  
  
He manages to keep his temper, barely. It had taken most of his money to get his phone fixed the last time; he can’t afford to break it again.  
  
With a sigh, he places it back down on the table and looks up at the ceiling. When Hans comes back, he’ll get him to plug it into the charger for him. Until then, all he can do is wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Hans plies him with food, clucking over him like a mother hen. His housemate watches him eat every bite with eagle eyes and snaps at him every time he goes to set the plate down. By the time he’s done, both of them are grumpy with the other. But it makes Matteo feel happy as well. Hans is still his friend, still cares about him, even though Matteo had said those awful things.  
  
“I am sorry, you know,” he says suddenly, drawing a startled look from Hans.  
  
“For what?” He asks, arching an eyebrow at him.  
  
Matteo rolls his eyes. “You know what,” he says with a sigh. “For all the things I said to you. You were right. I was ignorant and I didn’t understand and I upset you.”  
  
Hans studies him, a thoughtful look on his face. Matteo fights against the urge to squirm, but he really is trying to be better. He feels bad for how he left things with David, but at least he didn’t say anything hurtful to him, the way he had to Hans. Instead, he had taken that bit of time to read up about it and learn more before opening his big, dumb mouth.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says again.  
  
“It’s forgotten,” Hans says, giving him a genuine smile.  
  
Matteo frowns. “And forgiven?”  
  
Hans smirks. “Sure, if you come with me to gay pride.”  
  
He blanches, imagining all the bright colours and glitter and feathers. Hans sniggers at him and Matteo sighs deeply.  
  
“Yeah, we’ll see,” he says. Who knows, maybe David will go with him.  
  
Matteo goes to get up. He’s feeling much better now, though he’s still tired, but none of that is as important as getting to David.  
  
Hans stops him.  
  
“Where do you think you’re going?” He snaps. His face is drawn, concern shining in his eyes. Matteo stops and stares at him.  
  
“To David’s,” he says.  
  
“Matteo.” Hans says his name with a deep sigh, shaking his head. “You can barely stay upright. You’re not going anywhere. And besides, it’s late. David’s probably sleeping.”  
  
He doubts it. Matteo had barely slept while David had been gone. If David feels even a tenth of what Matteo feels for him, then he’s lying in bed right now, wide awake and hurting. And it sends a shard of ice through his heart, thinking about David in pain; pain that he has caused.  
  
“I have to,” he insists.  
  
Hans shakes his head again, a look of pity on his face. “Matteo, you look like death warmed over right now. The only place you’re going is to bed.”  
  
He helps guide Matteo over to his bed, pulling back the covers and then tucking him in. Matteo feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he knows Hans is right. He feels shaky and weak, and only rest will help with that.  
  
“I have to tell him,” he whispers to Hans, his eyes already drifting shut.  
  
“What do you want to say?” Hans asks him, his voice as gentle as his hands smoothing down the blanket.  
  
“I’m sorry, and I like you too,” he sighs.  
  
“You more than like him, Matteo,” Hans says, sounding amused.  
  
Matteo feels his lips turning up into a smile, and his eyes blink open as he looks up at Hans. “Yeah,” he says, his chest full with that unnamed feeling. “I do.”  
  
“He’ll still be there in the morning, I’m sure,” Hans says. “But you’ve been through a rough patch recently, and you need some rest. You won’t be able to find the right words like this.”  
  
“I guess,” Matteo says, sinking back into the pillows. “I feel like I should message him though.”  
  
Hans had placed his phone on the charger but it was still turned off.  
  
“Will it help you go to sleep?” Hans asks, sounding exasperated. Matteo looks up at him, eyes pleading. “Fine,” he huffs. He sits on the edge of the bed next to him, turning on Matteo’s phone and handing it to him, still connected to the charger.  
  
Matteo types in his password and opens his messages to David.  
  
He types slowly, his brain foggy with fatigue. But he has to do this, has to make sure David knows he isn’t rejecting him.  
  
First, he searches up something on the internet and then he sends the message. It has co-ordinates and a time. David will know what it means.  
  
“Satisfied now?” Hans asks as he takes the offered phone and sets it down on Matteo’s bedside table.  
  
Matteo nods. “Yeah, thanks Hans, you’re a good friend.”  
  
“I’m your guru,” Hans says with a smirk, “it’s what I do.”  
  
“The best guru,” Matteo agrees, smothering a yawn with the sleeve of his jumper.  
  
“Go to sleep, Matteo,” Hans says, getting up and moving to the door.  
  
“Kay,” he whispers, rolling over, eyes closing.


	3. Chapter 3

Matteo sleeps like the dead, only waking up late in the morning. There's no reply to his message, but David has seen it. He’ll be there.

He gets dressed, pulling his biggest, warmest sweater on over his head. It ruffles up his hair and he scowls at the mirror as he runs his hands through it, trying to ease it into some semblance of order. It’s impossible though; his hair defies gravity.

With a sigh, he pulls his jacket on over the top, tugs his hood up to cover his hair and slips his keys, wallet and phone into his pocket.

It’s time to go and see David.

Matteo shuts the door behind him and walks down the stairs, squinting as he steps outside. It’s way too bright and he huffs, pulling his hood down a little further.

He honestly can’t remember the last time he’d been sober for this long, and his body feels weak and sluggish. Nothing is going to keep him from David though, not now, not ever, especially not stupid withdrawals. His dealer had been right though, he didn’t want to be an island. He didn’t want to spend his life alone.

Not when David was out there, with his beautiful smile, and warm brown eyes.

Matteo can feel his lips tugging up into a smile just thinking of him. David warms him from the inside out, fills him up with emotions that he can’t recall ever feeling so completely before. The world is just a little brighter, a little happier with him in it.

And he needs to tell him that.

He arrives at the bridge a little while later. David is nowhere to be seen so Matteo lies down on the cold cement, closing his eyes and resting his hands on his stomach. The sun is peeking through the clouds to warm his skin, and he soaks it up like a lizard sunning itself on a rock, feeling his blood slowly heat up.

A shadow covers his face. Matteo smiles.

His eyes flutter open. David is looking down at him, his face shadowed, the sun haloed around his head. It’s pretty, though that perhaps is not the appropriate word, but it fills with him with a sort of childlike awe. Like he’s looking at something so much bigger than himself, a glimpse of the whole universe, too big and wondrous for him to truly comprehend.

“You look like an angel,” Matteo muses.

David laughs, though it sounds weak. He moves slightly, and the curtain drops. Matteo can see David’s face now. He looks tired, the bags heavy under his eyes.

Guilt squeezes his chest and his smile drops. This is what he’d been afraid of.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“You don’t need to be,” David replies immediately.

“And yet I am anyway,” Matteo says stubbornly. David smiles and Matteo sits up, indicating for David to sit beside him. He hesitates and then drops down.

Matteo takes it as a good sign that he’s close enough for their arms and legs to brush. He looks down at David’s hand, resting just above his knee and swallows down the surge of longing.

The silence is heavy between them, full of unsaid things. Once, Matteo might have let it sit, might have let himself drift away. It was easier. It was lonelier.

“I did some research,” he begins.

“Yeah?” David asks, glancing at him and then away. He’s chewing on his lower lip. Matteo finds himself staring at them. The longing is becoming so strong that his fingers ache with it.

“I’m new to all this,” he admits, gaze flicking up. “I don’t know very much about it.”

“That’s okay,” David reassures him. Matteo stares at him, trying to gather his thoughts. He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes as he did with Hans.

“It’s a bit confusing. I thought about asking Hans,” Matteo continues, “but it didn’t feel right.”

David shudders a bit, and Matteo knows he made the right choice. David should decide who he comes out to, not Matteo.

He’s silent for a few minutes, like he’s gathering courage.

“You have questions?” David eventually asks.

Matteo nods. “I just, I don’t know what’s okay to ask and what isn’t.”

Davids hums and tilts his head as he considers it. “How about this,” he starts, “you ask what you want to, and if I don’t want to answer it, I’ll just say so.”

“Are you sure?” Matteo asks, searching his face.

David gives him a wan smile. “Yeah. I mean, this is already going way better than I imagined. I think I can answer some questions.”

This makes Matteo frown. “What did you think I would say?”

The other boy shrugs and ducks his head, averting his gaze. His shoulders hunch over, like he’s expecting a blow. “I don’t know, that you hated me, that you never wanted to see me again.”

The grip on his heart twists and tightens. “Never,” he chokes out. “I would never say that.”

“I know,” David whispers, his voice cracking. His face is still turned away, and his shoulders start to shake. Matteo’s own face crumples, and he pulls David into his side, burying his face in his neck. They’re both sniffling and clinging to each other like small children seeking comfort.

But they’re holding on tight. Neither of them want to let go.

And that’s a start.


	4. Chapter 4

Matteo has never been much of a talker. He’s used to observing the world unseen, invisible, fading into the background and drifting through life.  
  
With David, it’s different. David has always seen him. And David makes him feel understood. He doesn’t expect Matteo to be anything other than himself, and it’s the most free he’s ever felt.  
  
It’s time to return that feeling.  
  
He pulls away from David, but he doesn’t go far, only kneeling between his legs and cradling his face in his hands. He tenderly wipes away the tear tracks with his fingers, and then he waits.  
  
David’s deep brown eyes search his face and drop down. He licks his lips in expectation, but Matteo’s gaze doesn’t leave his eyes. That’s not what he’s after, he doesn’t want to kiss this away and pretend everything is fixed.  
  
Because the shuttered look is still lingering in David’s eyes. He’s still holding some part of himself back.  
  
Matteo is greedy. He wants it all.  
  
So he waits.  
  
“What’s wrong?” David asks.  
  
“Nothing at all,” Matteo responds, his fingers shaking slightly as they continue to brush over David’s cheeks, “just looking at the man I love.”  
  
David’s eyes widen. “What?” He breathes.  
  
His cheeks feel hot but he doesn’t look away, couldn’t even if he wanted to. David’s eyes are beautiful, but even more so as that veil finally falls away.  
  
“There he is,” he says gently, giving him a teary smile.  
  
“You love me?” David checks, his stare intense as it roams his face, his hands coming up to bracket Matteo’s, holding them against his face.  
  
“I love you,” Matteo confirms. “I don’t think you understand the affect you have on me.” He takes a breath, a little surprised at how easily the words form and fall from his lips. “I've never talked this much in my life.”  
  
David gives a startled laugh but smothers it straight away, his lips turned up into that smile that Matteo adores. “You talk plenty,” he says.  
  
Matteo shrugs and David’s eyes twinkle. “See? I heard you loud and clear.”  
  
“That’s because you understand me,” Matteo says quietly, taking another deep breath as he leans in, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re precious to me,” he whispers.  
  
David’s arms drop to encircle his body, holding him tight and Matteo presses a kiss to his forehead. He hears a sniffle and he holds on to David even harder, almost crushing him to his chest as he tries to convey how much he means it, how sorry he is for any pain or doubt he caused him. David buries his face into his neck and his lips press just above his collarbone and they stay like that for what feels like an age, just holding on.  
  
“I love you too,” David whispers, so quietly it’s almost silent. But Matteo hears him. He smiles, pulling away so that he can see his face again.  
  
If he’d thought David was an angel before, it’s nothing compared to the happiness that glows from him now.  
  
“Shall we go?” Matteo asks.  
  
David tilts his head. “What about your questions?”  
  
He shrugs again. “They don’t seem that important anymore.”  
  
“Oh,” David says, looking startled.  
  
“I mean it,” Matteo says. “We can figure it all out later. I just want to hold you.”  
  
David smiles, and it’s almost blinding. “Sounds perfect,” he agrees.  
  
Matteo stands, offers a hand to David. David takes it and he pulls him to his feet. He doesn’t let go of his hand, letting his eyes flick down to David’s lips and back up again. It’s his decision; Matteo will follow his lead.  
  
As always, David reads him like a book.  
  
He leans in, pressing their foreheads together once more, their breaths intermingling, David taking his other hand and linking their fingers together.  
  
“Thank you,” David breathes.  
  
Matteo hums, frowning slightly.  
  
“For being you,” David whispers.  
  
He closes the distance between them, kisses him with a reverence that has Matteo breathless. Matteo frees one of his hands so that he can clasp the back of David’s neck, holding him close as he returns it, kissing him back with the same care, and it's poetry that they whisper back and forth with the sweetest of sighs.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s different this time.  
  
Last time they had been hiding, stealing kisses that didn’t entirely belong to them, trading them like little secrets, whisper quiet. It had been tender but heartbreaking, because Matteo had known even then that there would be a cost to their stolen slice of paradise.  
  
Now, though, there are no secrets. There is no hiding, no running, no conflicted smiles or averted, sad, looks.  
  
There are kisses, warm and raining down on his lips, his cheek, his neck, fingers trailing their bodies and learning them anew, only with wonder now, not worry. It’s sweet, and breathtaking, and perfect.  
  
He’s addicted to the bitten off moans that David smothers into his collarbones as he moves above him, the way he trembles under the brushes of Matteo’s thumbs over his hips, the way they move together in perfect unison, like they were meant for each other. Like they fit.  
  
The pleasure is overwhelming, but not as much as the knowledge that David is in love with him, that he wants to be with him.  
  
“I missed you,” he sighs into David’s ear afterwards, holding him close, chest still heaving, hair plastered to his face and damp with sweat.  
  
David smiles at him, leans in to kiss him again.  
  
“I missed you too,” he says against Matteo’s lips. He goes to pull away but Matteo holds him there, fingers sliding up the back of his neck and keeping him close. David stays, resting his forehead on Matteo’s.  
  
Their breathing slows.  
  
Once, Matteo might have cringed from this level of intimacy, from being so open and vulnerable with another person, but David has a way of just chasing the shadows of self-doubt away. He sees Matteo, understands him, and he loves him all the same.  
  
Matteo’s heart is so full.  
  
He traces hearts on David’s back, feels him smile against his lips.  
  
“I love you too,” David sighs, and they melt into kissing again, slow, drugging kisses, kisses that taste but don’t tantalise. They’re already as close as it’s possible for two people to be.  
  
Eventually they get out of bed, sheet dragging behind them as they run down the hallway giggling, falling into the bathroom and trying to stay quiet. David presses him against the door and kisses him breathless, and Matteo’s head spins with the sheer pleasure of it all. He can kiss David whenever he wants now, and David can kiss him too, and it’s lovely.  
  
The water is hot but the tiles are cool against his back. He can’t bring himself to care though, not when David is looking at him with those dark eyes and that teasing smile, the loofah in his hand dragging slowly down Matteo’s body.  
  
He steals all of Matteo’s moans, swallows them whole, greedily, like he owns them now. And he does. Matteo wants to tell him. David owns all of him now, heart and soul, and body, definitely body. David’s touches ignite a fire in him, the need sizzling in his belly, and soon it’s his turn to pin David against the tiles, watching him with bright eyes as he falls apart under his hands.  
  
“Beautiful,” he whispers.  
  
David blushes, and Matteo gives him a dopey grin, amused beyond measure that its this, his compliments, that affect him so much.  
  
They clean off, properly this time, gentle with each other now, tender. David makes him feel so treasured, and he almost wants to cry at how happy he is.  
  
“Are you okay?” David asks him, hands rising to cup his chin and tilt it up, searching his face with a concerned frown.  
  
Matteo beams at him. “I’m perfect,” he promises.  
  
David’s gaze softens. “Yeah,” he agrees, “you are.”  
  
***  
  
David’s eyes are hot as they trace his body and Matteo shivers with awareness. His back is turned as he moves between the stove and the bench, but he knows David is watching.  
  
“Stop it,” he whispers, squirming under his scrutiny.  
  
“Never,” David says firmly.  
  
Matteo chances a glance at him, and sure enough, there he is, leaning against the wall as his eyes slowly flick up. Matteo’s heart stops as he takes him in. David is wearing one of his enormous sweaters, and it’s sweeping off one shoulder.  
  
“Fuck,” he groans, going straight to him, lips pressing against his collarbone. He nibbles his way up, delighting in the way David trembles. “You look so good,” Matteo says against his lips, still looking at him.  
  
“You don’t mind?” David asks shyly, drawing back a bit.  
  
“Mind?” Matteo is floored. Why on Earth would he mind? “God, it’s driving me crazy already.”  
  
David flushes as Matteo continues to stare at him, drinking him in.  
  
Behind him, the pot starts boiling over, steam sizzling high into the air.  
  
“Fuck,” he says again, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to turn the stove down. David laughs at him.  
  
“Smooth,” he teases.  
  
“Shut up,” Matteo mutters, but he’s blushing, he can feel it. David makes it up to him though, moving to stand behind him and crowding him in, lips pressing carefully to the back of his neck. Matteo shivers and his knees instantly go weak, butterflies choking him.  
  
“What are you making?” David asks, lips brushing his skin with every word. Matteo’s mind goes blank, and he has to blink past the fog in his mind as he processes what he said.  
  
“Pasta,” he says when his brain finally catches up.  
  
David hums, and Matteo chokes back a whimper, feeling the vibrations right through to his soul.  
  
“Sounds delicious,” David whispers. His hands are on Matteo’s hips, thumbs rubbing in tight little circles. Matteo can barely remember his own name, let alone how to cook pasta. “Is it nearly done?” David prompts. “I’m starving.”  
  
“I can’t think with you touching me like that,” Matteo admits after a long stretch of silence. Fuck, he wants David so much.  
  
He feels the smirk form. “I know.”  
  
The lips drift as David moves even closer, pressing against his neck, sucking when Matteo helplessly tilts his head to the side to give him better access. His fingers are turning white where they grip the edge of the stove.  
  
“David,” he whines.  
  
He’s gone a moment later and Matteo whirls around, a complaint forming on his lips. David leans against the opposite bench, looking pleased with himself. His cheeks are red as well, his breath coming a little faster. Matteo clings to that small victory; at least David is as affected as he is.  
  
They stare at each other.  
  
David arches an eyebrow. “Are you going to feed me or not, Matteo?”  
  
His name from David’s lips is still novel enough that he shudders. Or perhaps it’s because he can still feel his lips brushing against his ear in a breathy sigh. Either way, it has an instant effect, which David notices with a wide smirk.  
  
He turns away, not because he’s embarrassed, but because at this rate the food will never get done.  
  
David’s eyes are still on him, and he moves slowly, finishing off the sauce, pouring the pasta into the boiling hot water and watching the little pillows of gnocchi rise to the surface. They’re both silent as he works, draining most of the pasta water, spooning in some of the sauce, stirring it in.  
  
Then he picks up a fork, piercing a piece of the gnocchi and swirling it through the sauce, cupping his hand underneath as he turns and offers it to David. The other boy moves forward, eyes on him as he purses his lips and blows on the steaming hot pasta. Matteo watches him, enraptured, as he ducks down and takes the gnocchi into his mouth, slowly chewing and then swallowing.  
  
David hums his appreciation. “That’s good.”  
  
Matteo preens at the compliment. “There’s a reason the guys call me Luigi,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.  
  
“Because you only know how to make pasta?” David teases.  
  
It startles a laugh at him. It’s true. It’s the only dish he ever learned how to make.  
  
“Maybe,” he agrees, but only because he likes the way David is smiling at him right now.  
  
Matteo hands him the fork and they both crowd around the stove, eating the pasta straight from the pot like gremlins. He doesn’t mind. Less dishes for him to do later.  
  
They don’t manage to finish even half of it, so Matteo pours it into a plastic container and slips it into the fridge. It almost feels weird, actually placing food on his shelf. It’s normally bare; it’s hard to find the will to go grocery shopping when you’re high all the time.  
  
Another thing that’s changed since David.  
  
When he turns back, David is already putting the dishes in the sink and turning on the tap.  
  
“You don’t have to do that,” Matteo protests.  
  
“You cooked,” David shrugged. “So I clean.”  
  
Matteo chews on his lip. It feels rude to stand here watching while David cleans up his miss.  
  
David takes pity on him, chucking the tea towel at him. “Here, you can wipe.”  
  
He can live with that and he accepts the first dish from David, wiping it dry and placing it on the bench. The two of them work quite well together, and within a few minutes the dishes are washed, dried and put away, the benches clear and the stove wiped down.  
  
Which leaves just them, and David in that too large sweater and teasing smile, walking backwards towards Matteo’s room.  
  
“Race you,” David purrs, and he he whirls around, Matteo hot on his heels.  
  
David wins, like always, but Matteo tackles him to the bed, both of them laughing as they tickle and wrestle and play fight, both giggling like little kids, until David manages to get on top of him, pinning Matteo’s arms above his head.  
  
His grin is slow, stunning, breathtaking.  
  
“I win,” he whispers.  
  
Matteo doesn’t mind.


End file.
